It soured in my stomach as I turned to him. “I guess it was too worthless for you to remember,friend—but you had a hand in this.”
The color drained from his face, and his mouth parted, but I was already storming across the room. I shoved my water stained boots on my feet and flew to the front door before he could try to change my mind. Barreling down the portico steps, I could hear him call after me.
I refused to go back.
My earlier resolve disappeared with a few smiles. It had been less than two days, and already I was clay in his hands. Being alone with him—and worse,closeto him—was like the potent antivenom to the layers of anti-Teddy poison I’d carefully stationed around my heart.
As I broke out into a full sprint down Bluebell Lane, ponytail swinging behind me like a sodden pendulum, a fresh resolve settled in place.
I wouldn’t allow Teddy Bowman to repeat history.
CHAPTER EIGHT
2017
The field was nearly empty by the time he found me—bleachers half-lit, sky a dull indigo bruised with the odd cloud. A pungent wet-grass-and-popcorn smell wafted through the air.
“You’re still here?” Teddy called, dropping his duffel with a thud. His damp hair curled at the edges of his forehead. “Didn’t think sports journalism was this glamorous.”
I held up my notebook. “Someone has to make sure Coach Harper’s post-game pep talk gets immortalized.”
“Truly heroic work,” he said, flopping down beside me. His shoulder brushed mine, and even through my jacket, it was enough to make me lose my train of thought.
He leaned back, watching the scoreboard flicker off. “You’re gonna write about bigger things one day, though. Real stories.”
I smiled, teasing. “Oh, yeah? And what about you?”
“Me?” He shrugged. “Someone’s gotta give you something to write about.”
I didn’t know why that made my stomach twist. “So you’ll go, and I’ll stay?”
He grinned sideways at me, full of the ease and charm that made me feel like I was facing the sun. “No. The artist and her muse always have to stick together.”
He meant it as a joke—but I held onto it anyway; that soft, half-serious promise that made the future feel like an epic love song.
“See you at Wes’s house?” Teddy said, nudging me.
“Yeah.”
When he stood to go, I watched him walk off the bleachers, cleats ringing against each steel step. He didn’t turn around, but I didn’t need him to.
In my head, I’d already written the ending. I just didn’t know yet that he wouldn’t be in it.
???
PRESENT DAY
The next day, I found myself elbows-deep in a crate of pumpkins.
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” I grunted, a thick droplet of sweat trailing down my cheek as I hauled another giant gourd into the bed of Rhett’s truck.
Georgie wiped her forehead with the back of her sweater’s sleeve. “Because I’m not going to be caught out again. We need backups foreverything.”
“Even pumpkins?”
She looked at me as if I’d mortally wounded her. “It’s theFallfest, Margot. People are expecting to be drenched in autumn by the time they leave.”
“That sounds painful,” I quipped.
